Updated Apr 11, 2026 • ~8 min read
Chapter 24: Six Weeks
Sloane
*Six weeks after the rescue*
I walk into the senior partner’s office on a Monday morning, and I don’t sit down when he gestures to the chair.
“I’m quitting,” I say. “Effective immediately.”
Richard Morrison looks up from his computer, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief to anger in rapid succession.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m tendering my resignation. I know I agreed to two months’ notice, but I can’t do it anymore. I’ll forfeit my final paycheck, my vacation time, whatever you need. But I’m done.”
He stares at me for a long moment. “Sloane, if this is about the partnership review—”
“It’s not.” I cut him off. “It’s about the fact that I’ve spent ten years of my life doing work that doesn’t matter to me, for clients I don’t care about, building toward a goal that I don’t actually want. And I’m done pretending.”
“You’re throwing away your career.” He says it like it’s fact, like there’s no possible argument. “You’re a brilliant lawyer. You could make partner here, could have any position at any firm in the city. You’re throwing all of that away.”
“I’m not throwing anything away.” I meet his gaze steadily. “I’m choosing my life over my career. There’s a difference.”
“And what life is that?” His tone is condescending now. “Running away to Montana to play house with some hermit who lives in the woods? That’s not a life, Sloane. That’s a quarter-life crisis that you’re going to regret in six months when the novelty wears off.”
The words sting because they’re exactly what Jackson would say, exactly the fear that’s kept him from believing in us.
But I’m not Jackson. I don’t let fear make my decisions anymore.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say calmly. “Maybe in six months I’ll regret this decision. Maybe I’ll realize that giving up a six-figure salary and a corner office for a man who lives off the grid is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. But you know what? At least I’ll know. At least I’ll have tried. At least I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering what if.”
“You’re making a mistake—”
“Then it’s my mistake to make.” I set my security badge and building key on his desk. “I’ll be out of my office by end of day. Send my final paperwork to my home address.”
I turn to leave, and his voice stops me at the door.
“When it doesn’t work out, don’t expect to come crawling back here.”
I look back at him, and I smile. “I won’t need to.”
I walk out of his office with my head high, and for the first time in ten years, I feel free.
My office takes less than an hour to pack up. Ten years of my life, and it all fits in three boxes. Most of it is going straight to donation—plaques and awards and trophies that meant something once but feel hollow now. The only things I keep are a few photos, some books, and a plant that I’ve somehow kept alive against all odds.
My colleagues are shocked.
“You’re really leaving?” Amanda from the office next door pops her head in, eyes wide. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“But you were on track for partner!”
“I don’t want to be partner.” The words feel amazing to say out loud. “I never really did. I just thought I was supposed to want it.”
“So what are you going to do instead?”
“I’m moving to Montana.” I tape up the last box. “Going to find work there, build a life there. Maybe environmental law, maybe park ranger work, maybe something I haven’t even thought of yet.”
“And the mountain man?” She’s grinning now. “Is he part of this plan?”
“He’s the reason I’m going back,” I admit. “But he’s not the only reason. Even if it doesn’t work out with Jackson, I’m still moving. Because I’m not doing this for him—I’m doing it for me. I’m choosing the life I actually want instead of the one everyone else thinks I should want.”
“That’s brave,” she says quietly. “Terrifying, but brave.”
“Yeah.” I pick up the first box. “It really is.”
That night, I’m alone in my apartment—nearly empty now, most of my belongings either donated or sold—when Kenzie calls.
“You actually did it,” she says, and I can hear the pride in her voice. “You actually quit.”
“I actually quit.” I’m sitting on the floor, surrounded by the last few boxes, and I feel lighter than I have in years. “No more notice period, no more pretending I care about mergers and acquisitions. I’m free, Kenz.”
“How does it feel?”
“Terrifying. Amazing. Right.” I laugh. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t have a job lined up in Montana, don’t have a place to live, don’t even know if Jackson will want me when I show up. But I’m doing it anyway.”
“Have you told him you’re coming?”
“No.” I’ve thought about it, thought about calling the ranger station and asking them to pass along a message. But I decided against it. “I want to surprise him. Want to show up and prove that I meant what I said, that I’m actually doing this.”
“What if he’s moved on?” She asks it gently, but the question still hurts. “It’s been six weeks. What if he’s convinced himself you’re not coming back and he’s already moving on?”
“Then I’ll deal with it.” I take a breath. “But I don’t think he has. I don’t think he could. We were too… real. Too intense. You don’t move on from something like that in six weeks.”
“Okay.” I can hear her smiling. “When do you leave?”
“Three days. I’ve got a flight to Kalispell on Thursday, rental car reservation, and absolutely no plan beyond showing up at his cabin.”
“That’s very unlike you, Sloane Whitmore. You, who plans everything six months in advance.”
“The old Sloane planned everything.” I look around at my empty apartment, at the life I’m leaving behind. “The new Sloane is learning to embrace uncertainty.”
“I like the new Sloane.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “Me too.”
We talk for another hour, and when we hang up, I sit in the quiet apartment and think about what I’m about to do.
In three days, I’m getting on a plane.
In four days, I’m going to show up at Jackson’s cabin.
And I have no idea what’s going to happen.
He might take one look at me and send me away, convinced that I’ll eventually leave like Sarah did. He might have spent the last six weeks building his walls even higher, protecting himself from the possibility of me.
Or he might open his arms and let me in. Might finally believe that I meant what I said, that I’m choosing him, that I’m not going anywhere.
I don’t know which it will be.
But I know I have to try.
I pull out his red flannel—the one I took from the cabin, the one that still smells like him even after six weeks—and hold it to my chest.
“Three more days,” I whisper. “Three more days and I’ll know. I’ll know if you’re brave enough to let me love you. If we’re brave enough to build this life together.”
My phone buzzes with a text from the realtor. Someone wants to take over my lease immediately, offering more than my rent to move in this week.
I text back: *Deal. I can be out by Wednesday.*
Two days.
I’ve got two days to finish packing up my old life, and then I’m flying to Montana to start my new one.
To Jackson.
To home.
And I’m not afraid anymore.
Terrified, yes. Uncertain, absolutely. But not afraid.
Because for the first time in my life, I’m choosing exactly what I want.
And what I want is him.
Even if he doesn’t believe it yet.
Even if I have to spend months proving it to him.
Even if it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I’m choosing him, choosing us, choosing this impossible beautiful terrifying thing we started in a cabin during a blizzard.
And in two days, he’s going to find out just how stubborn a city girl can be when she’s decided to fight for what she loves.
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